


The Department; Titan City

by MikeHoncho



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-06-24 12:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19723249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeHoncho/pseuds/MikeHoncho
Summary: Dean Ambrose just got the promotion of his life. But will he live long enough to see it through?





	1. Prologue: Fuck That Tree

I don't own these characters. WWE does.

The Department. Prologue. "Fuck that Tree."

"It needs to either rain harder, or not rain at all," Dean Ambrose mumbled to his partner. "Because this drizzle is horseshit."

"Would you call it the 'drizzling shits'?" His partner replied, in a much more cheerful tone.

Dean glanced over to the gorgeous woman occupying the passenger seat of his police cruiser. "Yes, Naomi, I would."

The woman grinned at him, elbowing him playfully. "Cheer up, Ambrose. Our shift's almost over, it's been quiet, and it's almost Christmas."

"It's December third," Dean spat in return. "And Renee took all the Christmas shit after the divorce went final. Even the tree."

Naomi took a second to process this. "Even your tree?"

Dean nodded woefully. "Yeah, it was this badass fake tree that already had all the lights and shit on it. Gone."

"Wow, sounds like you really love that tree."

"Fuck that tree," Dean barked in response. "It just...it's finally sunk in that it's over, ya know?"

Naomi wasn't sure how she should react. She was in an awkward situation, having known both Dean and his ex wife Renee before everything went bad. On one hand, she'd heard Renee's side of the story many times, over post-work margaritas. It was almost entirely Dean's fault, seeing as how he'd become obsessed with his latest murder case, and trying to link it to a series of similar murders across Titan City. Yet Naomi felt overwhelming sympathy for her forlorn shiftmate. Being a cop was really tough on anyone who had a family. She herself was only able to make it work because her husband, Jimmy, had a large family that helped with things like childcare. Naomi had never even heard Dean mention family, so she assumed he was on his own.

She flashed Dean a sympathetic look, and placed her hand on Dean's, patting it platonically.

"You know you're always welcome at the Fatu house for Christmas." Naomi said.

Dean, in a rare moment of vulnerability, gave his partner a tight lipped smile. "Thanks, Naomi. I might take you up on that. What does Toa want for Christmas?"

Naomi couldn't hide her smile this time. "He's obsessed with toy cars. He loves matchbox. You don't have to get him anything, but if you do, Target has a five pack of race cars that I know he'd love."

"Target, matchbox, five pack," Dean repeated. "Copy that."

Naomi had a snappy response all ready to go, but she was cut off by the dispatch radio coming to life.

"All patrol, be advised, we have a possible 'two eleven' in progress at Saturn convenience store. Twelve eighty seven west Finlay street. That's in south Titan proper."

Dean shook his head. "Of fucking course it'd be right now, with two hours left on our shift. Fuck!" He let go of that last obscenity as though it were on fire, before reaching toward the radio receiver on his lapel. "Dispatch, this is seventy David, we are currently on South Finlay, should we respond? Over."

Dean made a face at Naomi, causing her to giggle. Despite his rough exterior, Naomi loved having Dean as a partner. She was already married when she'd met him at the academy, and as a result she'd been the only female on campus Dean hadn't tried to have sex with. In fact, Dean met his now ex wife at the academy. Though she'd been an aspiring district attorney, observing cadets go through their training as part of a required course for their certification. Naomi loved Dean, precisely because she hadn't ended up in his bed, and their partnership was the stronger for it.

The radio crackled to life again. "Seventy David, this is dispatch. Proceed to intercept. There are three David's en route to assist with response. Over."

Dean grinned. "David" was code for "squad car." Dean had no idea why, but that was how it had always been. "Seventy David" was the call sign for Naomi and him, and he took solace in knowing that other units would be waiting for him.

"Copy that. Seventy David on route."

"Light em up," he mused at his partner, who grinned and reached for a switch on the dashboard.

Their police cruiser roared to life with blue lights and loud sirens as Dean pulled out of the parking space they were occupying.

Several blocks later, Dean Ambrose and Naomi Knight Fatu swung their police cruiser into the small parking lot of the Saturn convenience store. Dean shook his head, taking a quick look at his surroundings. The recession had hit this area hard, and the once proud middle class area was rapidly declining into a wasteland of drug houses and other havens for petty crime.

"Damn," he muttered. This was the kind of call he dreaded. "Tweaked out meth heads knocking over gas stations and Kwik Marts for forty bucks cash and snacks are always the calls that get you shot."

Stepping out of his squad car, he gave his partner a humorless tight lipped smile and grabbed the small hand held device that allowed him to speak into his cars PA system.

"This is the Titan City police! We have the building surrounded!" That wasn't exactly true, as supporting squad cars were just right that second pulling into the parking lot, but they were close enough to make escape impossible. "Come out with your hands behind your head!"

From his vantage point, Dean could see a pair of figures moving around erratically through the interior of the convenience store. After a tense moment, the first of the figures eased cautiously through the front door. Dean watched intensely as two officers to his left vacated the cover of their squad car to subdue the first perpetrator, who'd come to a standstill and laced his fingers behind his head. The patrolmen quickly led the suspect back behind their police car, handcuffing him and stuffing him in the backseat. After another minute, a second "perp" came out of the store, his hands high. Dean, relieved to have both alleged robbers subdued, quickly walked out into the open parking lot to handcuff and Mirandize the second young man.

"Hands behind your head, kid!" He slowly grabbed one of the young man's arms, forcefully lowering the young criminal's hands behind his back, handcuffing him cautiously.

Continuing speaking, while still paying careful attention to any other threats that might be in the area.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and wi-"

Dean's voice was cut off by a pair of loud POPs echoing through the night air. The young man in front of Dean, who now had his hands restrained behind his back, simply hit the ground, while the other on sight police officers scampered to cover behind their police cruisers. Naomi, seeing her partner hit the ground, called for an ambulance as two responding officers ran deftly toward where they believed the shots had come from. After locating and subduing the third, unknown participant, Naomi kneeled aside her partner, cradling his head and fighting back tears. For a minute, the officers surrounding Saturn convenience store waited anxiously for any sign of life from Dean Ambrose. After a second, the prone officer stirred, as all involved breathed a massive sigh of relief.

"Dean?" Naomi tried not to shout. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean opened his eyes, slowly. "Fuck that tree," he muttered, before slipping again into unconsciousness...

Dean didn't remember the ambulance ride at all. He didn't remember being admitted to the emergency room or the small team of ER nurses and orderlies that gingerly removed his uniform shirt and now-ruined kevlar vest. The only thing Dean remembered was the twin "pop" sound, and hitting the pavement. As he awoke, however, he noticed that he was no longer anywhere near the aforementioned pavement, and that there were several sets of eyes on him. He immediately recognized his partner, whose worried face grew to relief when she saw his eyes open. He saw his shift captain, Paul Orndorff, with a sober but concerned look on his face, and several of the other officers on his shift. The face he was most interested in, however, was one he'd never seen before. A striking female face, with high cheekbones, piercing eyes, and surrounded by fiery red hair, was gazing down on the ragged Ambrose. As Dean continued to climb back into the realm of the living, he began to make out the words the redhead was trying to convey to him.

"...Can you 'ear me, Officer Ambrose? Officer Ambrose?"

Dean smiled, seeing clearly for the first time the stunning doctor who'd apparently been charged with his care.

"Hey Doc," he half mumbled, still not completely in control of his faculties. "Why can't I feel my legs?"

The doctor shook her head slightly and smiled. "The EMT's gave ya' a sedative. It made the ride o'er much less painful."

Dean raised the arm he could move up to his face. "Shit," he continued, "I am flyin'."

The radiant doctor patted him gently on the arm closest to her. "I'm glad. My name is Dr Lynch, and I'm head of trauma here at Rogers General."

Dean's eyes widened slightly. "Shit, I have trauma wounds?"

Dr Lynch smiled and chuckled again. "That's wha' we're tryin' to figure ou'. You were sho'. Twice. But it doesn't appear that either sho' penetrated your kevlar vest."

Dean grinned, his face a loopy, happy mess of sedated comfort. "Hell yeah."

Dr Lynch shook her head. "You're no' ou' a the woods yet, Ambrose. The bullets didn' get to ya, but t'e impact may have damaged an internal organ. I'd li'e to observe ya for a couple hours."

"Noooo," Dean mourned, his voice still slurring from the pain medication.

Dr Lynch, growing more concerned with Dean, looked around the room at Dean's colleagues. "Has anyone called his emergency contac'?"

Naomi chimed in, though she didn't look particularly happy. "He never updated his 'in case of emergency' after the divorce. When we called his ex-wife, all she said was 'I hope he died slowly' and then hung up."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, I'm divorced. I cheated on my wife with five twelve year old girls." He laughed harder, as though what he said had been the most natural thing in the world. Becky withdrew her hand from Dean's shoulder, her face frozen in horror, as the rest of the room tried not to burst out in laughter. Naomi cut him off, saving him from further embarrassment.

"It's not like he said. At all. He must be REALLY high. He caught a case. Five dead little girls. All twelve years old. He let it get too important. It consumed him. He neglected his wife, his friends, family, everything. Just trying to get a lead on that case. Eventually our Lieutenant took him off the case, but not before his wife left him. Said she didn't want to feel less important that some little girls he never met."

Dr Lynch made a face. "Tha' doesn't seem very fair. It also seems like a lo' of information."

Naomi smiled. "I didn't want you to think he was…"

Dr Lynch grinned and nodded. "I understand. Now." She turned to her disoriented patient. "Do ya have any questions for me?"

Dean smiled mischievously. "What's your first name?"

Dr Lynch smiled, trying not to blush. "Becky. My first name is Becky. Now, is t'ere anythin' I can do to make ya more comfortable, Officer?"

"You can call me Dean," he snickered, trying not to be obvious in his flirting. Before Becky could respond, Captain Orndorff cleared his throat.

"I think we should leave Dean alone, let him rest here tonight." He turned his stern gaze onto Dean. "Take a few days, Dean. A week or so, even. Don't come back to work until you're not sore anymore."

Dean gave his captain an exaggerated thumbs up. "Will do, Cap." With that, his squadmates and captain filed out or Dean's exam room. Becky, however, stuck around another minute, hoping that she could glean a bit more about his frame of mind if she had the chance to talk to him alone.

As soon as the door closed, Becky turned her attention back to Dean, who'd reclined back on the bed, trying to get a bit more comfortable.

"Do ya have any more questions for me, Officer Ambrose?"

"Dean!" He admonished, though it sounded comical in his foggy state.

"Dean," Becky corrected herself, attempting to make the injured young man happy. "Is t'ere anythin' else I can do for ya?"

Dean grinned again. "Are you single?"

Becky rolled her eyes and swatted Dean lightly on his uninjured arm, though she fought desperately to supress her urge to blush.

"I don' date patients, Dean. Why don' we talk again when yer on yer fee'?" She hoped that would cull his advances for now, but if she were being honest with herself, she could do a lot worse. She'd liked how he was built from the moment she'd laid eyes on him, lying prone, his uniform shirt and bulletproof vest cut off. He'd ended up in his blue police issue pants and a knit undershirt, leaving his arms, shoulders, and parts of his chest exposed. "No' bad" had been her first impression. She knew getting involved with a patient, let alone a cop patient, was a bad idea. But Dean Ambrose was, in her opinion, an impressive physical specimen. She was snapped back to reality by Dean's response.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure I'll remember this conversation, but if I do, you can bet on it, pretty lady."

Becky tried to keep a straight face. "T'at's 'Doctor Pre'y Lady' to you, Officer Ambrose." Allowing herself one genuine, toothy grin, she reached over to Dean's IV bag and fiddled with it briefly. "T'ere's some more sedative for ya. Get some res'. We'll do an MRI tomorrow when t'e swellin' is down. If ya check ou' t'ere, ya can go 'ome. Soun' good?"

Dean nodded, the effect of the painkillers beginning to overtake him. "Yeah, Dr Becky, that sounds great…." That was all he managed to get out before succumbing to the soothing, overwhelming effects of whatever magic concoction was currently coursing through his system. All at once, his eyes closed, and he slipped back into the pharmaceutically-enhanced dreamland that had been beckoning him for a while…

Dean Ambrose hadn't had anything seriously wrong with him. Not physically, anyway. The MRI, performed carefully by staff at Rogers General Hospital, revealed no serious damage to Dean's internal organs. But the recovery was taking longer than he thought. The first shot had hit the intrepid Ambrose almost exactly in the center of the chest, which was great, in that his kevlar was strong there. The second shot, however, hit him on the shoulder, on his AC joint, where his collarbone and arm met. His armor had been weaker there, and as a result his bruise had been deeper and his time convalescing longer. It'd taken him almost two weeks to be able to lift his arm on that side over his head, and as a consequence, Dean still wasn't back on the job. Christmas was almost upon Titan City, the streets laden with snow and smiles permanently etched across the face of the more "well to do" citizens, and tonight was Dean's precinct's office Christmas Party. He really didn't want to attend, but Naomi had begged him to be her date. Her husband had taken Toa to see their grandparents for the weekend and wouldn't be back until Christmas Eve, between nine and ten pm. Dean, ever the ladies' man, jokingly tried to convince the voluptuous patrol officer that she had a "hall pass" for the weekend.

"I'm serious, Hey, we could 'get it on' all weekend and Jimmy would never know."

Naomi shook her head. Dean was kidding. She knew he was kidding, and yet her heart still skipped a beat. Dean was exactly the kind of guy she'd have gone for before she'd gotten pregnant with Toa. Jimmy had proposed the weekend they found out, and she was super happy with every aspect of her personal life, but there was a small part of her, like a three percent part of her, who screamed in her consciousness; "take him up on his offer! He's hot! Jimmy won the lottery getting you pregnant. Maybe you should 'play the lottery' too!"

Instead of doing any of that, however, Naomi just smacked Dean on the thigh, hard enough to let him know she was serious.

"No way, Dean. I'm a married woman. And even if I weren't, aren't you talking to the doctor that patched you up after you got shot?"

Dean snickered. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Naomi, for the first time legitimately concerned over her partner's behavior, shifted the car into "park" and slid her hand over Dean's.

"Look, Ambrose, we've been through this. If I hadn't married Jimmy when I did, you and I would one hundred percent be a thing right now. But I did. So please don't even joke about me cheating on my husband. We have a little boy and-"

Dean raised his free hand to stop his partner. "I get it, Nay, relax. I was just fucking around. I mean, your body is out of this world, but I respect marriage, especially one like yours. Give me more credit than that." He chuckled, then continued. "Yeah, I'm texting with Becky. She keeps giving me the 'I dunno, maybe,' though, so if one of these single chicks at the party wants to get 'Ambrose'd,' who am I to argue with them?"

Naomi rolled her eyes, pulled her hand away from Dean's and pulled her car door open, though she didn't get out. "Just come inside. Maybe 'Ms. Right' will be in there."

Dean chortled, unable to believe his ears. "I'd settle for 'Ms. Right Now.'"

It really was a good party. Captain Orndorff had been the host for the last several years, but he'd graciously agreed to step aside and let the party get taken up a notch. This year, the party was at a local dive bar named "Anvil's." The longstanding bar was a favorite of law enforcement around Titan City, and happened to be very near the precinct Dean and Naomi were presently based out of.

The beer flowed freely. Orndorff saw to that. The officers played pool and darts and sang ridiculous drinking songs and Christmas carols. Everyone was happy. Finally, around ten thirty pm, Ray Traylor, Captain Orndorff's second in command, called all the attendees to gather around the bar area.

"Listen up, people! We need to congratulate one of our own!" Most, if not all, of the attendees were puzzled by the large officer's statement. "Dean Ambrose, get up here!"

Though he was clearly drunk, and presently trying to talk the brunette server who'd been waiting on him all night to go home with him, Dean had enough presence of mind to understand that his presence was requested next to Ray Traylor, and Traylor was not a man to be kept waiting. He made his way through the mass of humanity surrounding Traylor, then slid next to the giant man.

"What's up, Ray?"

Traylor grinned at him. "Dean, as of January first, you no longer investigate gas station robberies." Seeing the puzzled look on Dean's face, Traylor smiled and continued. "The Commissioner is putting together a 'Major Crimes' unit, and you've been chosen as one of the inaugural hires for that task force!" Traylor was proud of Dean. They'd worked hard to make him a viable police officer, and any promotion he achieved would look good on their entire precinct. He inhaled deeply, glanced at Dean, and smiled. "Y'all give it up for Dean!"

As the crowded bar cheered loudly for their compatriot, Captain Orndorff glanced over at Naomi, who was standing next to him, her nervousness for Dean too much for her to bear.

"He won't be back, Naomi. He's a fantastic officer. He'll kick ass at Major Crimes."

Naomi smiled back at him, though her heart was heavy for losing the only partner she'd ever had.

"I hope you're right, Captain."

With that, the two officers began slowly making their way to the center of the mass of humanity, hoping to give their congratulations to Dean. If they'd know, however, what Titan City would be in store for for the next two years, they might not have smiled, and Dean might not have taken the new assignment….

COMING SOON: "The Department."

Like I said at the top; I hope y'all enjoy. There will be both "one off" stories and an overarching storyline with a beginning and end. Let me know what you think.


	2. chapter 2: "You Wanna Do What?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is presented.

Chapter 2: "You wanna do what?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Dean gave an incredulous look to the men sitting across the table from him. And this particular table at Lanza's Steakhouse was pretty crowded. At the moment, he was staring directly at Lieutenant Mick Foley and Deputy Police Commissioner Ron Simmons. "Why the fuck would you want me to do that?"

Foley, being the only person at the table who'd actually met Ambrose before tonight, chuckled, shrugged, and took a long drink of the cocktail in front of him. "Dean, I've had my eye on you for a while. When Mayor McMahon and the Commissioner told Ron and I to put this together, your name was at the top of my list. Despite your many…" Mick paused, trying to find the right word…"Idiosyncrasies, you're a fantastic cop with an almost unheard of closure rate. Ninety four percent? That'd be grounds for a promotion if-"

Dean cut him off. "If I hadn't punched out my former captain for taking me off the multiple homicide thing?"

Foley nodded again. "Yeah, that. You're lucky that captain ended up being dirty. Otherwise, you'd probably have lost your badge over that."

Ambrose shrugged and snickered. "If you guys knew the half of what I get away wi-"

Now it was Simmons' turn to butt in. "Is there something you want to disclose?"

Ambrose backed off, having remembered that these men didn't know him the way the cops at his old unit had. "Sorry, I was making a joke. I keep forgetting that you guys aren't familiar with my particular brand of hyjinx."

Foley suppressed another laugh by taking another sip from his highball glass. "That's okay, Dean, one of the reasons we picked you for this is your unique perspective on Titan City and it's problems."

"You want my opinion on Titan City? It's a shithole filled with people who can't leave or are dumb enough to stay."

"And which one are you, Ambrose?" Foley gave a half smile, anxiously awaiting Ambrose's response.

"Little of column 'A'..." He trailed off as the three men around the table shared a chuckle.

"Anyways, Dean," Foley continued, his mind back on his job. "We want you to help put together this unit. We, as a department, have a credibility issue."

Dean snickered knowingly. "That's a really nice way to say 'there's dirty cops in every precinct in this city.'"

Foley shrugged, but not because he didn't agree with Dean. "You said it, Ambrose, not me. You have a good record as a cop. No indication of being bought off or compromised in any way."

Dean nodded, grateful for the acknowledgement from Foley. "Yeah, I don't have a lot going for me, but I cannot be bought. Fuck that. If I were a dirty cop, I'd just quit. I've known guys I thought were on the take, and they still get shot at. There's no fuckin' point."

Foley kept the bemused smirk on his face. "That's why you stood out to us. You've got several 'dings' on your file, but you also have several commendations. You're good, but not too by the book. We're gonna need a lot of that attitude with this new approach we're gonna try."

"New approach?" Dean's interest was piqued now.

"Yeah, Major Crimes isn't gonna deal with policing street level offenses. We can do that for years and not make a dent in the real problem."

Dean scoffed. "And what do YOU think the real problem is?"

Foley grinned, picking up on Dean's inference. "Organized crime. Every street gang, pimp, hustler, drug dealer...they all have a bigger fish supplying them. Calling the shots. We lock up a 'corner boy' slinging meth, the guys at the top find three dropouts willing to take their place. We cannot start healing this city until the scumbags up the ladder go away. One way or another. We want Major Crimes to take the intel we gather from street level arrests and go after the 'go betweens.' The mid level guys that keep the top of the chain clean. Get them out of circulation and maybe we can consider going after the heads of the families."

Dean nodded. "I agree. I was just testing you."

Foley laughed again, before signalling to their waitress that they needed another round. Dean glanced over at the buxom girl, who smiled and winked at him in response. Finding his train of thought, Dean re-focused on his conversation. "And you want my help putting this 'Justice League' together?"

Simmons piped up for the first time. "You're the perfect choice, man. You grew up here. You have no connections to organized crime that we can find. You're good police, Dean. You put in for a promotion four times. We're offering you a promotion, a healthy pay raise, and a chance to do some real good."

Dean laughed. "Go all 'Gunsmoke' on Titan City?" He shrugged, shook his head slowly, and glanced again at their voluptuous server, who was dropping off libations for the entire table. He turned his head fully towards her. "Thanks, darlin'."

She gave him a giant smile in return, briefly rubbing his shoulder. "No problem, hon'." She winked at Lieutenant Foley, then traipsed away, though she didn't stray far from their table. Dean thought that was odd, as they'd ordered steaks a bit ago, and Dean was getting very hungry. The appetizers they'd requested had been devoured almost as soon as they hit the table, and that'd been about twenty minutes ago. After a minute, Dean remembered that he'd been in the middle of his answer to Ron Simmons' question.

"Man, I'm not sure. I come in here and you tell me order whatever I want, then you tell me your plan, and I'm sittin' here thinking 'you want me to do what?'." He paused as Simmons and Foley both gave a small chuckle. Ambrose shook his head, then took a long hit on his fresh beer. "Titan City's a shitty place. Cops work too hard, dig too deep here? They end up in the bay. I'm gonna have to think about it."

Foley rolled his eyes. "We have to get this unit going. Soon. You want to take a day? Take a day. Any longer than that, we move on to our second choice." Foley looked like he had more to say, but their food arrived at that moment. The beautiful blonde waitress led two other servers out to the table, where they each placed a decadent platter in front of one of the table's occupants. Before she could leave, however, Foley nodded at her and grabbed her softly by the arm.

"Before you decide, I want to introduce you to someone." The server grinned wider and waved at him, wiggling her fingers. "This is Sargeant Dana Brooke. She's your first hire. She specializes in what?" He looked up at the blonde, releasing her hold on her.

"Undercover operations," she spilled, before smiling again.

Dean gave Foley a look that signified that he was impressed. "Ok, I need a day to get my shit in order. I'm not saying 'yes,' but if I did, what's the staffing look like?"

Foley gave Dean a look as he began to cut his steak. "The mayor is beyond serious about this initiative. He's giving us funds like we've never had. I'm going to be your head administrator. You, me, and Dana here will be doing the interviews. Unless I have to find someone else."

Dean pondered this for a moment, before taking a bite of steak and washing it down with another long swig of his beer. "I'll take the day. Write my name in pencil as a 'yes.' In pencil. I might still change my mind."

Lieutenant Foley smirked, but nodded his head at Ambrose and extended his hand. "Good to have you on board, Ambrose."

Dean deadpanned, but did shake Foley's hand. "I might still say 'no.'"

With that, the three men, along with the now off-duty Dana Brooke, resumed their chatter about future plans and the food they were currently consuming...

...................

Dean took the day. He knew he was going to accept the position, but he still took the full day. Partially because he just liked antagonizing people, but also partially because he wanted to make sure all angles were considered before making such a life altering choice.

He'd tried to talk the undercover agent he'd met the night before into going home with him. She'd been no more than cordial at first, but Dean won her over with a line about how she should've been jailed for "keeping her fantastic rack as undercover as the rest of her," and they'd done shots together after their superiors left for the night, but cooler heads eventually prevailed. They were going to be working closely together for the next few weeks, and while both officers found the other attractive, they agreed that it was for the best that they not sleep together. At the end of the night, however, a somewhat inebriated Dana did give Dean a hug that bordered on "unprofessional," and a kiss that was intended for his cheek, but landed halfway between his cheekbone and mouth. Dana giggled, then pulled her head back, while maintaining her embrace, then let out a sigh and muttered "maybe one day." The two exchanged numbers, then went along their separate ways, each needing the rest before embarking on this perilous task.

His "day of reflection" actually began with a level of body fatigue that wasn't quite full on "hung over," but he didn't feel a hundred percent, either. As Dean got further from thirty, he felt every wild night out a bit more profoundly than he had as a "twenty-something." Still, even during his time off, he had things he'd had to do. There was less than a week before Christmas, and he hadn't bought Toa Fatu a gift. He also knew at some point he needed to start putting his own list of potential "Major Crimes" officer candidates. But all of that could wait until after he'd had his breakfast and gotten a good workout in.

His egg whites and oatmeal had gone down a little less amicably than normal, mostly because of the drinking, and Dean felt every ounce of alcohol he'd taken in the night before as he stretched in his driveway. His normal routine was a jog to his local gym, followed by an hour or so training, then jogging either home or to Anvil's, the local watering hole that hosted most of Dean's drunken escapades.

As he began his well-paced run to Haku's, the aforementioned gym, It occurred to Dean how lucky he was to be able to jog anywhere. West Titan city was among the safest boroughs in the city, mostly because of increased police presence and housing that was affordable and comfortable without being opulent. Most burglaries and break ins in Titan City were an attempt to steal either cash or drugs, and the homes in west Titan City didn't have the appearance of having either to the naked eye.

Dean turned the corner from Moxley street, where his house was located, and out onto eighth street. He could see the old neon sign that still read "Haku's boxing and fitness" from three blocks away.

Trimming the distance with every stride, Dean spent the remaining duration of his warm up jog trying not to let thoughts of the insanely gorgeous red headed doctor he'd met several days earlier take over his entire brain. She'd played her interactions with him perfectly since he'd been released from her care at Rogers General, always expressing interest but being coy about a future meetup. She'd left her number on the bottom of his discharge form at the hospital, and they were texting regularly, but Becky seemed cautious to pursue an actual date until she was satisfied with all the answers to the questions she was subtlely asking him.

Dean made good time to the gym. Really good time. It was below freezing every day in Titan City in December, yet the intrepid Ambrose made it to his gym in less than twenty minutes. He greeted Haku upon his arrival. "He's the toughest motherfucker I've ever met," Dean mused to himself. And Haku really was. Dean had heard stories of who Haku Uliuli Fifita was before he'd bought the gym. According to Urban legend, he'd once pulled a policeman's eye out of socket with his bare hands, and spiked it like a football player scoring a touchdown before backup showed up. That had been a very long time ago, but the rumors were still whispered.

Dean gave a fist bump to the giant man, then headed toward his locker. He'd asked for locker '6969' a thousand times, but he was still stuck somewhere in the four hundreds. Most of the members of Haku's gym took two to four classes a week, even though 'classes' were a fairly new thing for Haku and his establishment. Dean even attended Muay Thai and Krav Maga classes there. For the moment, however, once Dean checked in and gotten his hands wrapped by the cute girl working the front desk, his eyes were focused on the stunning redhead that was currently working over one of the heavy bags on the gym's main floor.

"'Doctor pretty lady'?" Dean asked, walking toward the subject of his inquiries.

The pretty woman flicked her head over her right shoulder. "Officer Dean? Fancy meetin' ya 'ere."

Dean grinned. He was a VIP at Haku's gym, but he'd never he'd a heavy bag for a rival member before, no matter how gorgeous she was. Becky Lynch threw several low punches to the heavy bag she was working while Dean fast talked her.

Dean smirked again. "I'm here to kick some ass. I've been a member here for a while. You?" As he intimated this, he slinked his arms around the bag Becky was using to get her workout in.

"T'ey tol' me t'is was the place ta' join," Becky retorted. "I was in t'e Irish women's counsel back home, resistin' British rule. I was a medic so I could pay muh way t'rough medical school."

Dean laughed again. "You're a tough chick. Makes me think I want to get to know you better."

Now it was Becky's turn to laugh. The breathtaking redhead threw a left hook at the bag Dean was holding.

"I dunno, Dean…" Becky trailed off. "Y'er a beautiful boy. Y'er exactly who I was lookin' for when I first got ta' Titan City. Bu' I heard a lotta shite abou' ya when I talked ta the nurses on ma shift."

Dean grimaced. "Yeah, I'm a real piece of shit. I fucked pretty much every girl on my shift, but that was a long time ago."

Becky flashed him an award winning grin before resuming her fight stance from earlier. "I know y'er trouble. But," she paused, letting Dean throw a few combination punches. "Them nurses are all on y'er ex-wife's side."

Becky grinned. She thought Dean was extremely attractive, but she wasn't just going to telegraph what she wanted from the gorgeous young man,

"Just don't stone me out. Let's go get a drink when we're done here. Anvil's is like two blocks from here. Go get a beer with me. Okay?"

Doctor Becky Lynch wasn't sure what to do. All the nurses on her shift at Rogers General said pretty much the same thing; Dean Ambrose was the definition of "trouble." But, on the other hand, he was super handsome, and a little on the "scruffy" side. And Becky was incredibly attracted to "bad boys." It'd been that way since she was a young teenager in the streets of Belfast. "Fuck," she mused internally. Dean was by far the most enticing man she'd met since she'd moved across the Atlantic to Titan City. He was gruff, somewhat untrustworthy, and clearly unkempt, but he was every bit the "rugged American" she'd signed up for when watching TV in her safe haven of Ireland.

The heart-stealing man smiled at her again while unleashing a combination on the heavy bag she was in front of. "Look, it's 'dollar pitchers' at Anvil's. Wanna get a pitcher when you're done?"

"We can ge' some beers, but don' be surprised when I drink ya under the table," the well-toned redhead responded.

Dean grinned. "Ok. Finish your workout and we'll get goin'."

Becky gave him her flirtiest of playful smirks. "I don' t'ink so, Ambrose. I'm goin' 'ome ta change. Ge' presen'able. I'll mee' ya t'ere at seven. Li'e a proper date."

Ambrose couldn't hide his excitement now. "A proper date, eh?"

Becky nodded. "Aye. I'm a doctor, not t'e type girl who jus' goes for beer in 'er workout clothes."

"You'd look great in anything," Ambrose thought. Outwardly, he nodded, betraying none of the excitement he was feeling inside. "Seven. Should I pick you up?"

Becky shook her head. "I go' ma bike. Probably bea' ya t'ere." With that, and a laugh from each of them, the two parted ways to finish their workouts, each hoping the other couldn't tell how pleased they were with this development...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's gonna get bumpy, folks.


	3. 3. Oedipal Shite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Becky's first Date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love. Y'all are the best. I was told AO3 was a top-tier borrowed character fic community, and I can see I was right. Review.

_Thanks for all the love._

Chapter 3: Oedipal shite.

As it turned out, Dean did beat Becky to Anvil's for their date. He insured this by arriving at six fifty five, rather than the appointed seven. The young man hadn't been on a date in a long time, not a real one, and this particular redheaded physician with impeccable bone structure piqued his curiosity like no female ever had. He'd just greeted the doorman, letting him know to make sure Becky got in okay. The large, tattooed hercules gave Dean a nod, which Dean responded to with a "Hey, Tyson."

Dean shook off the cold as he entered the run-down old pub. A staple of West Titan for the last thirty years, Anvil's was the culmination of a longtime dream of it's owner and founder, Jim "The Anvil" Neidhart. Jim spent 25 years as a street cop in Titan, working downtown. The day he retired, he laid down every bit of what he'd saved over his career to buy a failing bar not far from where he'd grown up. He worked it, his daughters worked it when they were old enough, and he'd turned it into a profitable business. He'd done so mostly by offering insanely low prices on beer and fried foods, counting on volume to make up for low markups. It was somewhat counterintuitive in the restaurant business, but it had worked for Neidhart.

None of that mattered to Dean at that moment. It was now 7:01 pm, and Becky was late. Ambrose tried not to panic. The last he'd heard from her was a text around four pm saying how excited she was to hang out with him, but a lot could change in three hours. Dean tapped his fingers on the worn wooden table, signaling to one of the servers he recognized that he wanted a pitcher of his "usual." She grinned and winked, acknowledging his order, but her face turned to surprise when he held up two fingers, indicating that he wanted one more glass than normal.

Dean ended up worrying for nothing. At almost exactly 7:04 PM, the front door to Anvil's opened and the alluring form of Doctor Becky Lynch sauntered confidently toward Dean. "Holy shit," Dean muttered to himself. And it was deserved. If four extra minutes were all it took for Becky to look like she currently did, Dean was prepared to extend her even more grace regarding arrival time in the future. She strode toward him, clad in tight faded black jeans and leather jacket. She shrugged the outer garment off, revealing a dark green tank top. Her hair was curly, but not in the obnoxious way some girls do. Instead, she allowed her hair to simply cascade around her face in gentle crimson waves. She was wearing makeup, but not so much that it distracted from her natural, God-given beauty. As she drew closer to Dean, she smiled, revealing her perfect white teeth once again.

"'Ey, boyo," she greeted Dean, her voice betraying her inner warmth.

Dean rose from his barstool, pulled back from his high top table, and smiled at his date, taking her in from head to toe. She extended her arms for a hug, and Dean happily obliged.

"I'm glad you made it, 'Doctor pretty lady.'"

She chuckled and shook her head, breaking the embrace. "Ya know ya can jus' call me Becky, yeah?"

Dean nodded. "I know, but I kinda like your nickname more." The two broke their embrace and were immediately joined by their server, who placed a pitcher of beer and two glasses on their table. She smiled at them, and not just out of obligation.

"Will there be anything else?" She asked the pair of occupants.

"You want a shot or mixed drink?" Dean asked, an anxious, compliant look on his face.

"Aye," Becky nodded. "I'll take a whiskey diet cola and twelve medium wings, if ya don' mind." She was facing the brunette young waitress, but Dean got the feeling that question was directed at him as much as anyone else. The young man chuckled.

"Girl knows what she wants. I'll take a whiskey and sour. Make it a double. Tall. Double tall whiskey sour and twelve 'scorcher.'"

Their server grinned, having just quadrupled her ticket price. "Absolutely. You want a side of fries or anything?"

Dean raised his eyebrows at Becky, who nodded. "Yeh. A side a' fries sounds tasty. Thank ya, dear." She grinned at their excited young waitress, who nodded and hurriedly whisked herself away to take care of her guests.

"So," Becky began again, re-focusing on Dean. "How's yer arm?"

Dean snickered. His bruises were still expansive, and it hurt him to move in certain ways, but the kevlar had done its job, and as a result Dean was dealing with discomfort, rather than bullet holes in places that could've ended his career, if not his life.

"It's good," he replied, rotating his shoulder slowly, as if to demonstrate his health. "You people do good work."

Becky smiled. "Good ta' hear."

Over the next few minutes, Dean learned a lot about his new potential love interest. She'd grown up in Belfast, with her mother introducing her to resistance early. She'd come to Titan City only eight weeks prior, when she'd been offered and accepted the position of "head trauma surgeon" at Rogers General. She enjoyed ultimate fighting, American football, baseball, and grunge music. As their mixed drinks arrived, however, their conversation turned to Dean, and what a guy like him was doing in Titan City.

"So," Becky redirected, stopping to sip her mixed drink, "tell me abou' Dean. How ya became who ya are."

Dean sighed deeply. "Yeah. Well, I was born here. Raised here. My mom beat a drug addiction. I grew up in a decent part of town. Good schools. Went to church. When I was twenty one my mom was accidentally shot in a drive by. She was walking home from the corner store. They never caught the scumbags that did it. After that, becoming a cop seemed like the logical thing to do."

As he told the story, Dean could see the empathy growing in Becky's brown eyes. At one point, she slid her hand over his as he told the story in more detail than Becky probably needed. When he finished, Becky drew a deep breath and pouted briefly.

"Dean, I am so sorry ya had ta deal wit' all that while ya were still young. That had ta be hard."

Dean snickered. "Yeah, I mean, it wasn't ideal, but I had several good years with mom while she was clean. We had a good time. I do wonder if losing her when I did made me marry Renee when I wouldn't have otherwise."

Becky nodded. "Renee is yer ex?"

Dean let a single laugh go. "I guess the nurses on your shift really did tell you everything. Yeah, we got married not too long after we met. Less than a year, in fact." Becky nodded as he paused to take a long pull from his glass of beer. "It was great at first, then I caught that case." Becky nodded again, more intently than she had all night.

"The one wit' the dead li'l girls?"

Dean shook his head in the affirmative. "Yeah. I can't actually even prove that they're dead. We never found any bodies. But they disappeared. I mean they were fucking gone. I only ever had one real lead, and that dissipated pretty quick."

"Ya ever hear from anyone else over them girls?"

Dean slowly lowered his head. "No. Once the trail went cold, that was it. I couldn't find anyone to say anything."

Becky's face betrayed her train of thought. "Holy shite, Dean. Ya had to deal wit' a lo'. And Renee didn' want ta be a par' of it?"

Dean shook his head again, causing his hair to wave. "Nah. She felt neglected. And I really don't blame her. I spent a TON of time on that case. Like a TON. I stayed at the precinct for sixty straight hours once making calls. I lived on catnaps in the squad room and peanut m&m's from the vending machine."

"Wow. Yeah, t'at's a lo'," Becky affirmed. As much as her brain was questioning whether or not dating a cop would be good for her own mental health, she couldn't help but be taken in by the manic intensity behind Dean's eyes. She was also really taken in by his seemingly relentless passion for justice. She caught his eyes with hers, and patted the top of his calloused hands with her, her elegant fingers running lightly over his knuckles.

"Do ya have hobbies? A way ta blow off all tha' anger?"

Dean shrugged and raised his beer glass.

"You're lookin' at it, really. I'm at work, here, at the gym, or asleep."

Becky scoffed lightly. "Bullshite. The girls a' the hospi'al say yer ou' tryin' ta ge' girls ta go home wit' ya all the time. Wha' abou' tha'?"

"I believe that's covered under 'sleeping'," Dean mused." By the way, your accent gets much more pronounced when you've been drinking."

Becky returned a deep, sincere grin and chuckle. "Aye. I've heard tha' before."

The two kept up their small talk for a bit, and their food was delivered shortly after. When they'd spent a few moments in content silence, both of them immensely enjoying their food, Dean worked up the nerve to ask the question the question that had been circling his mind since they'd begun their conversation.

"How about you?" Dean asked, doing his best to sound interested without appearing to pry.

"Wha?" Becky questioned, her focus having been pulled from her dinner.

"Was there ever anyone special for Dr. Becky Lynch?"

Becky snickered, almost sadly, and took a sip of her beer, before refilling both Deans and her own glass. She nodded, the wistful look still on her face.

"T'ere was only two real ones. My high school boyfriend was named Sheamus. We grew up in Belfas' toget'er. We was jus' friends until tenth grade, when he asked me to the movies. No' long after, we was makin' ou' in the back o' me mum's car. That was a big deal."

"Why was that?" Dean asked, his face a mask of rapt attention.

"Mum never wanted me ta date. My dad lef' when I was li'l and she tol' me every man was all the same."

Dean chuckled and nodded his head. "We really are."

Becky rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the smile from curling her lips. And, in Dean's opinion, any reason to steal a glimpse of her lips was a good one. She continued her story, trying not to let on that she could tell Dean was staring at her intently.

"She forbade me to see 'im, which jus' made me wan' to more. We did all the 'high school swee'heart stuff. Then he wen' ta university and I never saw 'im again."

Dean shook his head. "Fuck that guy," he asserted. Becky made no attempt to hide her laugh this time, and used the sudden movement to brush her hand on Dean's again.

"That's wha' mah mum said, too. She asked me if I'd learned me lesson wit' boys yet. And for a while, I had."

Dean nodded his head knowingly. "Until boy number two?"

Becky nodded, the look in her eyes growing in distance as she recollected. "Aye. Finn Balor. We was in med school together. He was the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen, and 'e treated me like a princess."

Dean urged her in verbally. "And then what happened?"

Becky took a long drink of her beer, emptying her glass, and poured what was left in the pitcher into her no longer frosty mug. "I caugh' him bangin' our ana'omy professor."

Dean waited for more detail before finally relenting and asking his pressing question. "Was your professor like, a guy or something? I know him cheating on you is shitty enough, but the look on your face makes it seem like you saw him shoot a puppy or something."

The conversation paused long enough for Dean to signal to their server that they wanted a second pitcher of beer. After the young woman received his nonverbal cues, Dean turned his undivided attention back to the auburn haired beauty in front of him. Becky paused, still hesitant to tell him everything.

"No, it was a 'she,' bu' she was old enough ta be his mum." Dean made a face as Becky nodded. The fresh pitcher of lager, along with two fresh glasses, landed on their table. She continued as Dean poured beer in their respective cups.

"Yeah. A' first, he tol' me he was only doin' it ta help his grade." She chuckled. "I was jealous she wasn' inta girls when I heard tha'. I needed help wit' mah grades, too. I was even willin' ta forgive 'im." She cringed as she prepared to tell the next part. "Then I read his texts. It was some weird Oedipal shite. He was callin' her 'mum' and she sai' he was 'er 'good li'l boy.' It was fucked."

Dean had turned a full shade paler during the story, his stomach churning in disgust from this new revelation. "That is fucked. I mean, not the older woman part. I went through a bit of a 'cougar' phase myself." He chuckled as Becky hid her head in her hands. "The part where he's playing 'the good son.' That shit is...gross."

"Aye," Becky nodded. "He tried ta tell me he ha' a sex addiction, bu' it was too la'e. I moved ou' tha' day. Me mum was a' the door, wit' a look tha' said 'I tol' ya so' right on 'er face. That was the las' serious one. Since then i's been jus' a few casual t'ings here an' t'ere. Nothin' since I moved 'ere."

With that last revelation, Dean was the one who couldn't hold in his smile. "No dates since you've been in Titan City? Good. All the guys here are scumbags."

Becky grinned, turning her head sideways playfully at Dean. In spite of herself, she found his unorthodox manner extremely attractive. It was though Dean was physically incapable of taking anything more seriously than was absolutely necessary, and Becky got enough seriousness in her life saving lives all day at the hospital. Spending her evenings with a man as irreverent as Dean was an appealing notion to Becky, who loved to laugh in spite of the severity of the decisions she made at work every day. She slid her hand onto Dean's again, winking at him when he looked up at her, unsure of the message she was sending. She smiled, showing Dean that grin he was growing so fond of. After another moment of small talk, Dean's phone, which he'd meant to turn on "silent" before beginning his date with this latest entry into his personal life, but had forgotten immediately on laying eyes on his date, went off, and he was paying the price now.

"Fuck," he spat to himself.

"Wha'?" Becky asked, her interest in high gear. Dean shook his head in response. "I have to do some interviews tomorrow. December 22nd and we have to go to work. Can you believe that?"

Becky smiled again and rolled her eyes. "I pulled a bulle' ou' of a senior citizen on Christmas Day las' year," she asserted, letting Dean know how ridiculous she found his protest.

"Well...I didn't," he finally relented, unwilling to admit she had a point. "Anyway, apparently a few candidates won't be here until after January once they leave town for the holidays, so my captain wants me to get their interviews in tomorrow."

Becky's eyes flared with interest. "Who are they?" She asked, her curiosity bubbling over.

Dean squinted at his phone screen. "Huh. There's some experienced officers applying for this unit."

Becky's look of curiosity turned to full-on inquisition. "T'at's a good t'ing, right?" She pried, gently, hoping Dean would satisfy her curious mind.

Dean scoffed in return. "Yeah. Even though it makes me wonder why I'm one of the ones in charge of this bowl of fruits and nuts."

"Who else is in charge?" Becky asked, enjoying hearing Dean discuss topics he cared about.

"Well, there's Captain Foley. He appointed me. I gather that I'm like, team leader or whatever. I run the day to day, he keeps the brass happy. There's also Dana. She's the one that gave me the 'heads up' on these interviews tomorrow. She said her specialty is 'undercover,' but I get the sneaking feeling she might be there to keep an eye on me." Dean pulled his iPhone closer to his face. "Looks like I have four interviews tomorrow. Booker Huffman, Dustin Runnels, Emma Dashwood, and Zack Ryder. I know Zack, though, and he's hired if he wants the job."

"He's a good cop?" Becky inquired, sipping from her cocktail.

"Yeah, but not in the traditional sense. He's the best forensic accountant in Titan City. Maybe the country."

Wha' in God's name is a 'forensic accountan'?" Becky asked, her inebriation beginning to show.

Dean scoffed lightheartedly. "A forensic accountant is a cop who figures out where the money siphoned through a business owned by a crime figure is actually coming from." Seeing the puzzled look on Becky's face, he expounded on his point. "Let's say a drug lord has a ton of cash that he needs to explain the presence of. So he buys like, a car wash. It's a cash based business, there's no record of how many customers visit per day. It's a perfect front for organized crime. Instead of there being like three hundred thousand dollars this guy can't explain, he can say ' we had a good week at the car wash.' That's how they got Al Capone, actually."

Becky nodded. "I t'ink I ge' it." She smiled, slid off the stool across from Dean, and reset herself on the one to his immediate left.

"Is this ok?" She asked, not particularly caring what his answer was.

Dean grinned at her in response. "Absolutely." He slid his arm around the backrest of the high-backed chair. She, in response, leaned into the unstable Ambrose, grinning, and pecked the shocked young man on the cheek. (Author's note: I did mean for this kiss to stay in.)

"What was that for?" Dean asked, genuinely puzzled by the actions of Lynch.

"Yer jus' so stinkin 'andsome," Becky responded, the color beginning to flood to her cheeks. "Yer so passiona'e abou' wha' ya do. I's very attractive." She smiled at him, deeply, and leaned into his casual embrace. She took a long, final drink of her cocktail, before signaling for another. She turned her head toward Dean, letting him see her sparkling white grin. "I was very nervous abou' goin' on a date wit' a cop. Especially a cop I'd 'eard so many stories abou'." She grinned as Dean's face colored slightly. "Bu' I really wouldn' min' gettin' ta know ya be'er."

The young detective grinned. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm an interesting guy."

The two smiling young professionals continued their small talk for a while longer, until they were finished with their snacks. They played pool, casually threw darts, and lightheartedly flirted for another hour or so.

Finally, after a particularly rousing game of darts, Dean checked his watch. "Shit," Dean muttered. "It's getting late."

Becky gave an exaggerated pout. "Bu' we was jus' startin' to 'ave fun." She winked at Dean, before lightly running her hand up and down his arm. "No, I understan'. I know ya 'ave them interviews tomorrah."

Ambrose checked the time again. "Yeah, I should be done midway through the afternoon. You want to have dinner or something?"

Becky smiled sweetly, and a bit shyly. "I'm at the 'ospital tomorrah. 'Til la'e. But I'm off the res' a' the week fer Christmas."

As soon as the scarlet-haired beauty mentioned the upcoming holiday, a thought Dean had had earlier and then forgotten throughout the course of all the beer and general merrymaking, but he figured now was as good a time as any to ask the question on his mind.

"Do you have plans for Christmas?"

Becky smiled again, but this time Dean could make out a glint of sadness in her face. "No' really," she mused, "Me roomma'e is working Christma' Eve and spending the day wit' 'er boyfrien's family. I figured I'd watch 'allmark movies and eat ice cream."

Dean snickered. "Well, I don't know if I can offer that level of fun, but my old partner invited me to her house for Christmas Eve. Her son's gonna be in the pageant at church and it always sucks but they're little kids so the adults smile and applaud anyway. The dinner after is always somethin', though. Naomi and her mother in law go all out every year. I am one hundred percent sure you won't be an inconvenience or imposition. They love being hospitable."

Becky gave a toothy, truly happy grin. "I would love tha', then. I was very sad thinkin' I migh' spend' Christmas Eve alone." She slid both her arms around Dean's left upper arm, briefly resting her head against his shoulder. "Thank ya fer invitin' me."

Dean grabbed her jacket for her, then held it so she could put it on. He wasn't sure why, but he really wanted to impress the intrepid doctor with how he could treat a woman he was interested in when properly motivated.

"T'ank ya," the Irish angel beamed. "Yer such a gentleman."

Ambrose let a single hearty laugh escape at that statement. "That might be the one name no woman has ever called me before." He gestured toward the front door, nonverbally inviting Becky to walk with him. Her smile grew wider as he took her hand, and she couldn't help but peck him on the cheek again. This one was soft, like the last one, but it lasted a bit longer and Becky closed her eyes while delivering it.

"Yer a swee' man, Dean Ambrose. I don' care wha' them ladies at the hospital say abou' ya."

Dean snickered. "I guess it depends on what they say about me." The two sauntered slowly through the door, letting the frigid December northeast air slap them across the face. "So, where'd you park?"

Becky grimaced, though it was playful. "I walked."

Dean's eyebrows raised in surprise. "This is Titan City. You walked alone to a bar?"

Becky shrugged animatedly. "T'ere were still lots of people aroun' on the streets. It's only abou' eight blocks. I figgered it wa' safe."

Dean shook his head. "Well, you got lucky getting over here unscathed. I refuse to let you take the same chance going home, however." He gestured toward his truck, a well-worn but immaculately kept Ford F-250. "I won't take 'no' for an answer. Seriously. I don't want you to get trafficked on the way home."

Becky giggled, now fully feeling the effects of the beer and cocktails she'd imbibed throughout the night. "Okay. Ya can drive me 'ome.. Bu' no funny business, mister…" she trailed off, her pointer finger squarely in Dean's face.

Dean grinned his best smile at her. "I promise, you're just getting a ride home." He winked at her, and she rewarded him with another kiss to his cheek.

After opening the vehicle door for Becky and helping her into said vehicle, all the while trying VERY hard not to stare at Becky's alluring backside, Dean got himself settled into his vehicle and engaged in small talk with Becky for the extremely short ride back to her apartment.

Pulling into the closest spot he could find, Dean threw his truck into "park" and jumped out of the cab, hoping to get to Becky's door before she opened it herself. To his chagrin, she slid out of her seat and closed the door just as he was arriving, but did take his hand again as they walked to the door of her apartment building. FInally, after a few more silent steps, Becky turned toward Dean and smiled, taking his free hand in hers.

"I really ha' fun tonigh', Dean, thank ya."

Dean tried not to smile, hoping to keep his cool exterior together. "I had fun too. Will you text me tomorrow night if you get some free time?"

Becky glanced down at the sidewalk, trying desperately not to squeal with glee that Dean seemed to be so into her.

"Aye. I will. An' if muh roomma'e is 'ome nex' time, I'd like ya ta mee' 'er. She's an excellent judge a character."

"Then I'm not sure if I should meet her or not. She might figure me out."

"Ha!" Becky exclaimed, not expecting that answer, though she should have. "Yer a much nicer man than ya le' on, Dean. And I'm glad." With that, the auburn-haired vixen slid her arms around Dean's neck, raising her head to his and planted a kiss on the somewhat surprised mouth of Dean Ambrose. Feeling a slight moan escape the lips of the beautiful redhead, Dean leaned into the kiss after a moment, and the two allowed themselves a brief moment of total submergence into youthful romanticism. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only two or three minutes, Becky pulled away from the kiss, slowly and remorsefully.

"I hafta go in now, Dean. Or I'll be ou' 'ere all nigh' kissin' ya."

"What's wrong with that?" Dean asked, his hands still plaed gently on Becky's hips.

Becky looked him in the eyes, thoughtfully. "I'd like ta. Truly. Bu' ya hafta be up early and I'm a' the hospital all day. But le's do this again soon, ya?"

Dean nodded. "Christmas Eve?"

Becky grinned. "Yeah. And maybe after?"

Dean smiled again. "I'd count on it."

Becky, despite her better judgement, grabbed Dean playfully by the lapels of his leather jacket and pulled him in for another kiss, allowing their tongues to intermingle for a precious few seconds. After another minute or so, Becky broke the kiss. She backed away from Dean slowly.

"G'nigh', boyo. Tex' me when ya ge' 'ome, yeah?"

Dean snickered. "I will."

With that, Becky scanned a small object over the electronic locking device that kept unwanted would-be visitors out. She turned, blew a whimsical kiss at Dean, and retreated into her building.

* * *

_I did not intend to do 10+ pages on Dean and Becky's first date. I just had so much fun writing it. Next chapter will deal with cop stuff. Promise._


End file.
